


Honey of a Foreign Land

by Coffee_Flavored_Kisses



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: AU, M/M, S1E13, chance meeting au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 13:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21429172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffee_Flavored_Kisses/pseuds/Coffee_Flavored_Kisses
Summary: “I’ve got a charger, but it’s back at my house a few more miles up the road. You can follow me there if you want.”David sighed. “I’m out of gas.”“Well I’ll give you a ride.”David let out a huff of breath that might have looked like a laugh to anyone who didn’t really know him. “I learned a long time ago never to accept help from a stranger, but thank you.”“Well I’m not a stranger,” he said, and he approached David carefully, one hand extended. “I’m Patrick.”David shook his hand, a little wary. “David.”“Nice to meet you, David.” He smiled. “How about I put a few bucks in your tank and get your phone charged up for you. You look like you could use a break anyway.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 58
Kudos: 346





	Honey of a Foreign Land

How long he’d been driving, David didn’t know. It didn’t matter. He was gone, and that was the whole point.

Highway 8 must lead somewhere, he figured, so he took that road as long as he could. Most of the drive was cornfields and wind farms, but occasionally he caught glimpses of little towns he considered stopping at. But no. Stopping would mean thinking, and he wasn’t in the mood to think.

Not until fate did it for him.

He ran out of gas just about five minutes after he realized he needed it. If there was one thing to be grateful for, he supposed, it was that there was a rest stop just barely close enough, and he managed to drive Roland’s truck, sputtering and spewing much like its owner, into the gas station and at the first pump while he thought for the first time that this whole thing definitely could have been better planned.

His phone had died some fifty miles back or so, and it was to his horror that he realized he had forgotten his charger. Here he was, penniless, stranded, lonely. Achingly lonely. But his legs hurt and he needed to stretch. One thing at a time, he figured.

He thought he could remember having a little bit of cash – not much, maybe ten bucks or so – in the pants of one of his suits. He’d found it when he was storing things in that room Stevie loaned him. But when he started to search, the enormity of the load, both physical and emotional, was overwhelming, and he hopped off the back and onto the ground with a bit too much enthusiasm. And now his hips hurt.

He closed his eyes tight and gripped the side of the truck bed with both hands. He had to remember this wasn’t his truck to kick, and these shoes weren’t made for that, either.

_“Fuck!” _

“You okay?”

David jumped at the voice, relief washing over him when it registered that the man who said it was several feet away at another pump.

“I’m fine,” was all David said. He looked down again at this phone.

“Okay.”

David looked up. The man was still looking at him.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” the man repeated. “No offense, but you look a little lost.”

“I’m not lost.”

“Okay.”

“But…” David pocketed the phone and crossed his arms in front of him. “I was wondering…”

The man waited, hands deep in the pockets of his dark-wash jeans. David wondered how there was room for his hands in jeans that tight.

“Where am I?” David finished. “Where are we?”

The stranger relaxed into a smile. “Pecan Grove,” he answered.

“That’s not a real place.”

“It is a real place. It’s the place where we are.”

David looked around. He should have guessed that a rest stop surrounded by nothing but trees and open highway would have a name like that. He muttered another _fuck_ under his breath.

“Do you need directions or anything?” the voice said again.

David considered him for a moment. “I need a phone charger.”

“Well what have you got there? An iPhone?”

David nodded.

“I’ve got a charger, but it’s back at my house a few more miles up the road. You can follow me there if you want.”

David sighed. “I’m out of gas.”

“Well I’ll give you a ride.”

David let out a huff of breath that might have looked like a laugh to anyone who didn’t really know him. “I learned a long time ago never to accept help from a stranger, but thank you.”

“Well I’m not a stranger,” he said, and he approached David carefully, one hand extended. “I’m Patrick.”

David shook his hand, a little wary. “David.”

“Nice to meet you, David.” He smiled. “How about I put a few bucks in your tank and get your phone charged up for you. You look like you could use a break anyway.”

David’s instinctual reaction was to shout _you don’t know what I need_, but he softened at the way Patrick’s eyes sparkled in the overhead lights. This is the stuff of serial killer movies. But at this point, David wasn’t sure if he cared or not.

“Are you sure?” David asked.

“Of course.” Patrick retrieved his card from his wallet and handed it to David. “There. Fill it up. I’m gonna run in and grab something.”

David wondered how he’d be expected to pay Patrick back for this. If there was one thing in life he was sure of, it was that nothing was free. If there were two things he knew, the second was that people are never kind for no reason. And if there were three things he was absolutely sure of, the third was that he wanted to trust the kind-eyed stranger in the too-tight jeans at the rest stop in a place called Pecan Grove.

A man who’d just left him alone with his debit card five minutes after meeting him.

Despite everything he might have done in a similar situation a couple years before, he decided to wait for Patrick to return. He handed back the card, closed the gas cap on the truck, and followed the Honda Civic those few miles north until a hint of civilization could be found off Exit 44 into a place not dissimilar from his own hometown. But no, Schitt’s Creek wasn’t his hometown. It was the biggest mistake of his life. The biggest mistake of his father’s life, actually. All the money he’d squandered on that gag gift could have been invested in something that would really have belonged to David. And then, all these years later, he might be sipping something tangy on a beach in France and it would be his family relying upon him, not the other way around.

Patrick pulled up in front of a modest brick ranch home on a dead-silent cul-de-sac. Red shutters flanked old wooden window frames, and there was a flower garden just in front with a collection of Blue Jays-themed décor. A gnome in a blue cap, a baseball bat that said _The Brewers_, and a clay cat figurine that held up a sign that read “Jays fans only.” Patrick already pitied whoever this man was married to.

Patrick waited for David to reach him at the front door to the home. “Everyone’s sleeping inside,” he explained. “So I’ll just grab it and bring it to you. You can wait in the front room.” He turned the key and opened the door.

The scent of vanilla hit him immediately. It was one of his least favorite scents, but he was no stranger to its supposed relaxing benefits. He waited on the twelve-by-twelve ceramic tiles that paved their way from the entrance to the front room, and Patrick whispered that he’d be right back. Still, David noticed the screen of the TV in the room playing an informercial at a low volume, a figure in the recliner, a beer on the little table beside it.

Patrick returned quickly with the charger. “It’s a portable one,” he explained quietly. “And it’s supposed to give a full charge in like 15 minutes. But I’ve never used it, so I don’t know how reliable it is.”

“That you, Patrick?” a sleepy voice called from the recliner.

David’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, sorry, Dad. I’m leaving. Just had to grab something.” He looked back at David and shook his head a little. “Come on, let’s go back out there.”

They stepped outside again, closed the door behind them, and Patrick handed it over to David. And then he gave him the strangest look.

“What?” David asked.

“You hungry?” Patrick said.

David was starving, honestly, but the calculations in his mind were adding up to a bill he had no desire to repay.

“I’ll be fine when I get back on the road.”

“Will you, though?”

David put the cord in his phone and held it there while it started its charge. “Well I have to be, don’t I?”

“Where are you headed, anyway?”

_Anywhere._

“I was originally thinking New York,” he said.

“Well that’d be about fifteen hundred miles straight that way,” Patrick smiled, pointing straight east.

“Yes, well I realize that now.”

“So you’ve got a new plan?”

David crossed his arms in front of his chest. The plan hadn’t changed, only the destination.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Patrick insisted. “Please.”

“I can’t pay you back,” David admitted.

“I’m not asking you to.”

“They always ask.”

“Well,” Patrick shrugged. “I’m not.”

“Then why are you being nice to me?”

Patrick smiled a little. David could get used to that. “You just look like someone who could use a little kindness.”

_He pities me_, David thought. But maybe he deserved to be pitied. Maybe he deserved a little kindness.

“Dinner?” Patrick asked after a long, silent moment.

“I’d like that very much, Patrick. Thank you.”

“My car?”

David smiled. “Fine.”

They got in the car and headed back on the road, snaking around a million little streets that felt like a maze of brick and cedar shake. It was quiet while David watched it all, trying to remember the best way out in case things went awry. It was a hopeless plan, trying to escape. He’d never find his way out. Why do serial killers have to live in these remote places? _Because they’re remote_, he supposed._ That’s the whole point._

“So how long have you been driving?” Patrick asked.

“All day.”

“Yeah? Where you coming from?”

“Little town,” he answered. “You wouldn’t know it.”

Patrick nodded.

“How long have you lived here?” David asked him.

“My whole life.” The lack of hesitation in his answer bothered David for some reason. It felt forced, but not as if it were a lie. More as if it were a truth he wished wasn’t so.

David didn’t have a reaction for that. Thankfully, he didn’t need one. They were parking in front of a diner not unlike one he and his family had frequented often recently.

Patrick left the car and waited for David, admiring the man’s gait and stride, confident but like he held back a secret Patrick couldn’t wait to discover. He didn’t know why he cared so much. It was ridiculous, frankly. But he had always considered himself a decent guy, and that’s what decent guys do. They care.

“What’re you in the mood for?” Patrick asked as they seated themselves at the counter.

David smiled to himself as a laundry list of wants scrolled through his brain. He was in the mood for a warm bed and a hot coffee and silk pajamas he could curl up into. He was in the mood for a fireplace – _god_, he missed having a fireplace – and he was in the mood for a friend to lie beside him and share a joint and talk about what a great year 2008 had been. He was in the mood to go back home, but not to the place he’d called home these past few months. Not any of the places he’d called home before that either, he supposed. He was homesick for a place he hadn’t found yet. He wanted to find it. That’s what he was in the mood for.

But instead, he said, “Chicken fingers.”

It was an odd choice, and even he knew that. What was he, six? But there was a kind of nostalgia to it, he thought, that enticed him. Patrick ordered a burger and onion rings. They shared an appetizer of mozzarella sticks and watched the last five minutes of a cable news program.

“So what’s your deal?” Patrick asked after a while.

David played with the French fry in his hand, twirling it through his fingers like a baton. He looked down at it. “I don’t have one,” he answered.

“You must,” Patrick rebutted. “I mean, if you don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine. But if you do wanna talk about it, I’d be more than happy to listen.”

David looked up. It was almost difficult to look into Patrick’s eyes. For some reason, it felt a little like stealing.

“You’re not my therapist,” David said. “There’s not enough money in the world to pay for those fees.”

“So I’m not a therapist,” he conceded. “But I am a stranger you’ll never have to see again. And even better, I come free of charge.”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? What’s the catch?”

Patrick let the words settle before he answered. “No catch. Is there supposed to be a catch?”

“There’s always a catch,” David muttered.

Patrick considered the man for a while, took a long sip of pop and wiped his face with the napkin. “Okay. You’re right. There’s a catch.”

David shook his head. “I knew it.”

“The catch is that you’ve caught me on a night where I could really use a stranger, too. Consider this mutually beneficial.”

David sat up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”

“Suppose…” Patrick started, and for some reason he paused to glance around the room. “Suppose I’ve had a shitty day, and helping you out tonight makes me feel better about myself. Maybe I’m… I don’t know…” he stopped, sighed. “Maybe I feel like if I do something nice for you, I’ll feel like a better person for what I’ve done tonight.”

David’s eyes widened. “You can’t consider me an accomplice if you haven’t told me the details,” he spoke quickly.

“What?”

“I’m just preparing for the worst,” David said. “As one does.”

It took a moment to register, but when it did, Patrick smiled. “No – I didn’t murder anyone, David.”

“Sure.”

“I didn’t,” he laughed. “I just…” but he couldn’t say it. He felt like such an asshole acknowledging it like this.

“What?” David asked. He surprised himself now at his curiosity.

“I sorta dumped my fiancée,” he confessed. “We were together for forever, and I just cut it off like it was nothing. Moved back in with my parents.”

“Oh, so that was your parents’ home…”

“Yes. My dad was the guy in the chair.”

“Yes, well I didn’t see his face ‘cause it was dark, but you two did have the same general shape, so I can see the family resemblance.”

Patrick tried not to smile. This wasn’t the time.

“A nice shape,” David clarified.

“I just feel like it was a shitty thing to do.”

“Well then why did you do it?” David asked.

He took another sip of his drink, another onion ring down, tried to relax. This wasn’t a story he wanted to get into right now.

“Our career paths were taking us different ways. I didn’t want to make her compromise, and she wouldn’t allow me to stay behind just for her.” Every word of that was a lie, but what did it matter? He’d never see this guy again.

“How long were you together?”

Patrick couldn’t smile through this answer. He couldn’t pretend any of this felt good to him. He couldn’t pretend this wasn’t the worst part of the breakup. Or at least a close second.

“On and off since high school,” he answered.

David’s eyes widened. “And you just now realized your careers were different?”

Something in David’s eyes told Patrick that David was smarter than this. That he knew it had nothing to do with careers. But how could he tell him?

“Well I’m sorry about the breakup,” David continued without giving Patrick much chance to answer. “They’re never fun and they’re never easy, even when they’re for the best.”

_This is stupid_, Patrick thought. _I can’t cry now. Stop that._

“Thank you, David,” he said.

“For what?”

“For understanding, I guess.”

_Oh no. This is getting too close to friend territory._ “It’s common sense,” David said dismissively. “Like saying yes to a free dinner. Or saying no to a gift from Perez Hilton.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, common sense would dictate that I should have said no to this dinner, but I think this situation is an exception to the rule.”

Patrick smiled again. He couldn’t seem to help it. “So I’m not a monster?”

“Well I don’t know you well enough to speak to all instances of your character, but in this one I would say no.”

Patrick nodded, and the two of them finished what was left on their plates. Turned out chicken fingers was exactly what David needed. He felt awake again. Renewed.

That was the chicken fingers that made him feel that way, right?

“So how’s the phone?” Patrick asked. He didn’t want to ask, because by now it was probably done charging, which meant David was done talking to him. And he still hadn’t heard nearly enough.

David looked down at the phone.

** _100% Charged. Unplug now._ **

“It’s only at 76%,” David lied.

“Mm. And we’re done eating.”

“We are.”

“So now how do we get down to the details of your story? Because I’ve told you mine. It’s your turn.”

“You don’t have to,” David said with a little shake of his head.

“I want to.”

David smiled. _Ridiculous man._

“But not here. I think it’s fair to say neither one of us has room for dessert with the portions they give.”

“Is that fair to say?”

Patrick folded the check between his fingers. “I’ll grab you something up at the counter on the way out.”

With two slices of baklava in a small white box tied up in string, David couldn’t help but admire the delicacy and care with which this restaurant looked after its customers. Nice touch, he thought. There should be more places like that.

“Where are we going now?” David asked when they were inside the car again. At this point, the prospect of going back to Patrick’s house and having a run-in with his parents was more terrifying than going to, say, some shady ravine to get murdered.

“I know a place,” Patrick said. “Great for thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“Talking.”

David hesitated. “Okay…”

“It’s not a big deal. But it’s a really cool overlook. You can see everything for miles. Pecan Valley is right under it, so it’s all lit up and—”

“Okay, I have to ask,” David interrupted. “Do you even grow pecans out here? I mean, is that a thing?”

“Not as far as I can tell, no. I don’t think we have the climate for that. But our first mayor’s name was Harold McAllister Pecan IV, so that’s where the name came from.”

“Town’s shouldn’t be named after mayors.”

“I agree, but I also made that up. I have no idea why all these towns have nut-related names.”

David stared at Patrick. Patrick stared ahead. Both decided not to address it.

“Here we are,” Patrick said at last, and they turned at the peak of a very steep hill to a flat piece of asphalt with only a waist-high guardrail between them and the most spectacular city view David had seen since Manhattan. Patrick parked in a spot near the middle of the lot, which still only allowed about ten feet between the front of the car and the edge of the cliff. He turned and smiled softly at David, who was still sort of taking it all in. It was a lot to take in.

Patrick reached one arm behind David’s seat, and David took in a breath, prepared to be kissed by a handsome, charming, frustrated man in mid-range denim. But when Patrick only retrieved the small string-bound box from the back seat, David found himself a little relieved. Best not to go that route.

“I say we eat some crunchy Greek pastries and bitch about life. Sound good to you?”

“That always sounds good to me.”

They left the car, and David joined Patrick as they leaned on the hood of the car, the illuminated forever in front of them a stark contrast to their immediate surroundings. Apparently, Pecan Valley was the closest thing to a city for miles around, and the nightlife there, even on a weeknight, was always intense. Patrick explained as much while he settled the box between them and reached in to break off a corner of his slice.

“So it’s your turn now,” he reminded David.

David munched on the pastry, an excuse not to talk.

“You won’t tell me? Even after I told you my deal?”

David looked at him and pointed at his own mouth, which was full of something delicious and necessary.

“Okay, fine. I’ll just have to guess, then.”

David looked away from Patrick, back down to the valley.

“My guess is that you’ve had a hard couple months. Maybe a little longer. You’ve been through some changes, and it’s been overwhelming. And then… something happened? Don’t know what, but I’d guess some sort of breakup. And you made a flash decision to grab your truck and drive until you couldn’t drive any longer. How am I doing so far?”

David had swallowed the baklava. He no longer had an excuse not to answer.

“Well first of all, it’s not my truck,” he said. “And there was no breakup. I mean. I probably screwed things up with the only friend I’ve had in a long time, but that probably would’ve happened anyway.”

Patrick nodded. “I have one more guess,” he said, breaking off another little piece. “I’m guessing that as soon as you got to that rest stop gas station, you regretted ever leaving.”

David wished he’d taken more time with his dessert. He cleared his throat and blinked away the tears that threatened to expose him.

“But hey, what do I know?” Patrick walked close to the edge and leaned against the guardrail. David stood back those few feet behind him and watched. How could a man who’d just met him not only understand what he was going through, but also care about the details? He thought Patrick must be truly kind, which wasn’t a concept with which he was familiar. He thought maybe Patrick was the only good man on earth, but then he thought that maybe underneath everything, he was also a good man himself. And certainly his father could be, when he wasn’t selling towns out from under David and keeping the money for himself like some kind of cheap-ass. He thought Patrick might still have other motives, even if his distrust for the man was fading before him. He also thought Patrick had a very nice little body, especially the way it leaned over like that as if on purpose, as if showing off, as if Patrick didn’t know how good he looked and wanted to see if David did.

_Ridiculous thoughts_.

“Hey,” Patrick said, turning back suddenly. “You wanna feel good?”

Oh god. Maybe on top of everything else, Patrick was a mindreader.

“What are you talking about?” David asked.

“I’m talking about screaming,” Patrick said. “Don’t you ever just scream?”

“Constantly,” David answered. “On the inside.”

“No, no. That’s no good.” Patrick stood from the hood of the car and approached the edge of the lookout. He took a deep breath in, and David watched in horrified wonder as Patrick let out a shout that echoed from Pecan Grove to Elm Falls.

“God, that feels good!” Patrick beamed. He looked back and took a couple steps toward David, who, illuminated only by the moon above them, looked like a kept promise. “Try it.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll save my incoherent outbursts for the next time I have lunch with my mother.”

“Then don’t be incoherent,” Patrick insisted. “Shout out something that’s on your mind.”

David shook his head. “Tempting, but no.”

“_I WISH MY BOSS WOULD GIVE ME A RAISE!”_ Patrick shouted, almost interrupting David.

“Oh god…”

“C’mon.” Patrick returned to the edge of the lookout and stared down at the valley. “You might never get this chance again.”

David sat there another moment longer, but he rolled his eyes and joined Patrick on the edge anyway.

“That’s the spirit!” Patrick said.

“Don’t ruin it.”

Patrick watched him for a moment. “Well? Go on?”

David let out a breath, took another one in. He closed his eyes tight, clenched his fists, and screamed at the top of his lungs, _“I WISH MY FATHER WOULD SELL THAT STUPID TOWN AND GIVE ME MY FAIR SHARE OF THE PROFITS!”_

Patrick laughed. _“I WISH I’D TAKEN THAT TRIP TO ITALY LAST YEAR WITH MY COLLEGE BUDDIES!”_

_“I THINK ALEXIS IS MAKING A HUGE MISTAKE HANGING OUT WITH MUTT!”_

_“I JUST WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS TOWN AND OPEN A COFFEE SHOP OR SOMETHING SO I DON’T HAVE TO DO PAPERWORK FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!”_

David was laughing now, too. This was fun. _“I MISS SHOPPING AT CHANEL!”_

_“I MISS HAVING MY OWN APARTMENT!”_

_“I THINK I’M THE LONELIEST I’VE EVER BEEN IN MY WHOLE LIFE!”_

_“I’M PRETTY SURE I’M GAY!”_

David’s smile faded a little. He looked over at Patrick, who, after a couple seconds, looked over at him as well.

“You wanna park it there a while?” David asked.

Patrick hesitated. He raised his hands and placed them both on top of his head. “I’ve never said that out loud before,” he whispered.

David waited a moment, carefully trying to read the situation. “Would you like me to pretend you didn’t say it to me just now, too?”

Slowly, Patrick lowered his hands. He looked beside him at David. “No,” he spoke softly. “I guess I don’t mind it that you know.”

“Well for what it’s worth, your secret’s safe with me.”

Something about that felt like a warm blanket and a cold knife at the same time. _Your secret_. It sounded dirty.

“It wasn’t the career path, was it?” David asked.

Patrick shook his head.

“Do you think she knows the real reason?”

“Sometimes I think she knows. Sometimes I think she knew before I did.”

David nodded. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. It feels really good saying it out loud. Feels sorta like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

And then there was a moment of… something. Recognition, perhaps. Patrick wasn’t sure what to name it, but he knew what it felt like. It was understanding. It was safe.

“You know, every single day I think about leaving here,” Patrick explained. “Starting over somewhere else where I don’t have to go through the coming-out process. I can just go there and be me, and everyone will just know from the start. You know, if they even care at all. But I’m not anywhere else. I’m here. Everyone here does care. I hate that.”

“They do, don’t they?” David asked, and he thought about home. His new home. A place where people _did_ weirdly care about him, even if it wasn’t always the right people or in the right ways. His sister had started to care about David’s opinion on things. His mother had started to care about David’s wellbeing. His father had started to care about David’s responsibilities. Or maybe they hadn’t started caring. Maybe they’d always cared but coming to Schitt’s Creek had brought that out in them, and David didn’t care for that, frankly. If people cared about him, he might find himself vulnerable. And that had never, not even once, worked in his favor.

And Stevie. David didn’t even know where to start with her. To think she cared for him in a way he couldn’t reciprocate. In a way he wasn’t even sure was what she thought it was, either. He worried about Stevie. He worried that she’d gotten caught in a web of her own self-doubt, and so anytime she felt anything she felt it too much. She was a lot like him in that way.

“I’ve actually got a standing offer,” Patrick said, momentarily interrupting David’s thoughts. “A guy I know works for a headhunting organization, and he says there’s a place that’s been looking for a business manager. I haven’t decided yet, but maybe I should take it.”

“With all due respect,” David said, moving a few steps closer so that he was almost rubbing shoulders with Patrick, “I think that would be missing the point. You can’t just run away when you want a clean start. You can leave, but the problem is that you bring the baggage with you. You don’t get rid of your problems. You just unpack them somewhere else.”

Patrick looked beside him. “Have you told yourself that lately?”

“I’ve been thinking about it since about five minutes outside my town,” he admitted. “But I’ve got this thing called pride.”

“Do you, though?”

“Not as much of it as I thought I had, no.”

Patrick looked back out toward the Valley. “I think you need to go home, David.”

He sighed. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

“Come on. I’ll drive you back.”

They walked to the car and sat inside, and David couldn’t deny any longer that his phone was fully charged. He unplugged it and turned it on, and we waited for the notifications and messages to start rolling in.

And he waited.

And he waited.

And he waited.

Someone he followed on Instagram posted a new story. Not the notification he was waiting for.

So he waited some more.

And waited.

And waited.

“How do I do it?” Patrick asked.

“Hm?” David sort of shook himself awake from his bewildered state. “Do what?”

“How do I tell them? How do I do it in a way where they know I’m still me and everything?”

“I’m not great at advice,” he offered. “But I will say that whenever you’re ready, and it doesn’t have to be anytime soon, you should make sure you have a support system. People you can go to, you know, who will be there for you in case things go poorly.”

“But to build a support system, I’ll still need to tell people. It’s like a vicious cycle.”

“Well you’ve already told me. So I’ll be your support system.” This felt right for some reason. David wished it didn’t. He could deal with terrible choices; he’d done them often enough. But this might be a good choice. And if he was making a good choice, and if it ended up coming back to bite him, he’d be no better off than he’d been all these years leading up to this moment, one heartbreak after the other, one failure after the other, one poor choice after the other.

Patrick looked over briefly and smiled at him.

No. This was a good choice.

“I’ll give you my number,” David told him. “And anytime you need me, we can talk.”

“Gotta tell you, I didn’t think tonight would go like this.”

“Well, neither did I. But here we are.”

And there they were, driving up to the house on the cul-de-sac, the sky still dark, the street glittering with a late spring dew. Patrick pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“Here’s your charger,” David told him, and he handed the pack over to Patrick, whose fingers brushed against David’s when he did. “Thank you again.”

“They must be worried sick,” Patrick said.

David looked down at his phone. “Yeah. Not as much as you’d think.”

“You’ll be happier when your home,” Patrick said. “At least you’ll be around people you know and love.”

David didn’t say anything.

“I’m really glad you ended up stranded on Highway 8 tonight, David.”

“Should I be saying thank you for that?”

“I would,” he smiled. “I am.”

David caught himself looking a little too long. He couldn’t help it.

“I’m glad, too,” he whispered at last.

Patrick stared at him, and he wondered how a man had gotten him to say so much without trying. Especially since the whole goal of the evening had been to get David to say it all first.

David looked around them. Empty streets. Darkness. The usual markers of a tiny town after 9:00PM.

Not a soul in sight.

“Can I tell you a secret?” David asked quietly.

Patrick nodded.

David knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t say it. Every word was either too much or too little. Either meaningless and dull or overflowing with feeling.

_You’re fucking gorgeous and I want you._

_I think you’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met._

_When you leaned on the guardrail, I about lost my mind._

_Thanks for dinner._

“What?” Patrick asked. He was staring at David’s lips now.

“Would it be so awful of me to ask for a kiss goodbye?”

Patrick just kept staring, his eyes finally glancing up into David’s before he found himself and managed to shake his head and whisper “Not at all.”

David reached one hand across and held Patrick’s in place. When their lips met, David could still taste the baklava on him, the honey of a foreign land. Patrick was soft and strong all at once, and it wasn’t lost on David how much this moment would always mean to him. He was starting to think it would mean just as much to him, too.

David pulled away, his hand falling against Patrick’s chest, and he left it there a moment to feel the heart that beat beneath it. Rapid like a waterfall, sure like his eyes. He wanted to drown in Patrick, but not tonight. Tonight, he settled for a little swim.

“Can I really call you?” Patrick asked. “Or is that just the nice thing you say before you go back home and change your number?”

David let out a little laugh. “If you’re ever foolish enough to want another conversation with this,” he gestured at himself, “then I’d be only too happy to take your calls.”

“Oh, I’ll be foolish enough,” he said.

David opened the door, but before he stepped out, Patrick stopped him.

“I hope you know how important it was to have someone to say it to,” he said.

David nodded in understanding. “Of course I do.”

“I’m going to work on it all in the coming weeks, I think. Getting used to the way it feels. How I’ll tell people. All of it.”

“Just…” David stopped and sighed. “Just be patient with yourself. Don’t ever feel it needs to be done a moment sooner than you’re absolutely ready for it.”

Patrick agreed, then offered to walk David back to his car. It wasn’t more than a few steps, but in that time, Patrick came to a realization.

“I’m not going to do it if I can’t tear myself away from here,” he admitted. “I think I might call up my buddy and see if he can get me that job.”

“If that’s what you have to do.”

“Well at the very least, it’ll give me a healthy amount of distance from everything that’s been holding me back here for years. And then I’ll be able to think, maybe. You know?”

“I know,” he nodded. And he wished this wasn’t goodbye. He wished this wasn’t any of the things that it was.

They talked a little longer, not really paying attention to the time or the way it had gotten colder or how long they were standing, leaning against a rusty truck full of luggage and boxes. It started with a joke Patrick made about the town’s mascot, which led to David’s story about that time he was in the Macy’s Parade, which led to another story, then another, then a laugh, then another reason for David to both wish he’d broken down here years earlier or else could do it again every Thursday. They almost said goodbye before the sun came up, but then the sun was coming up, and they weren’t going to just not watch the sun come up. Then everything was glistening in the daylight, all secrets exposed, and David really did have to leave. They said goodbye at half-past six and David headed back to where he’d come from. Patrick watched until the car was no longer visible, which wasn’t long because these winding roads were ridiculous, honestly. David was right.

He walked back up the driveway, and something in the back seat of his car caught his eye. The little box from the bakery was there, and he didn’t remember them putting it back in the car when they were done, but obviously one of them must have. He pulled it out and went to toss it in the bin, but after a moment’s hesitation, he decided not to. Not until he’d removed the string, bound it around his wrist, and tied it securely. He tossed the box away and went inside the house.

Some hours later, he called his buddy about that job. Was it still available? What’s the pay like? He’d have to stay with his boss for a while, but it would almost be rent-free at least. And what kind of name for a town is Schitt’s Creek anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: nbc-trialanderror


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